


I make up things that I would never say (I say them very quietly)

by TolkienGirl



Series: All That Glitters: Gold Rush!AU [99]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: All you need to know rn is that Feanor wanted Mae to replace Finwe on city council, Feanor being a sore loser, Gen, Letters, Silent Treatment, Third Finwe Problems, and Mae wouldn't, title from Siken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-03 17:47:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19468996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TolkienGirl/pseuds/TolkienGirl
Summary: The year is 1849. Maedhros, having refused a request of his father's, is trying to win a one-sided war.





	I make up things that I would never say (I say them very quietly)

**Author's Note:**

> If you're following along, this is right in the middle of Mae's Spiral of Debauchery--but his letters to Dad won't let on about that.

_January 2, 1849_  
_Valinor Park_  
  
_Sir—_  
  
_Maglor & I arrived here at 6 o’clock in the evening, and I shall post this early tomorrow, so that news of our safe journey may reach Formenos quickly._  
  
_We dine with Grandfather on Sunday, as usual, and we will convey your fond greetings, as you would wish._  
  
_I hope that everyone at Formenos remains in the good health we left you all showing. As I said, the journey was easy & safe: the horses not too tired and Maglor able to read a little while the light lasted. I expect he shall write to you soon with reports of his new studies, but he is resting at present._  
  
_This reminds me: upon my return, there were several letters from your scholar friend in Wales, which at your bidding I will summarize for inclusion in your recent treatise on metallurgy._  
  
_On second thought, I shall forward them to you with this missive. I would not wish to delay your enjoyment of Mr. Owen’s research, nor impose a lesser understanding on the subject._  
  
_Forgive the brevity of this letter, if you would. I shall retire early & rise early, in the hope of assisting Maglor in some small way with his preparations for his tutor, who arrives at half-past ten._  
  
_Your servant,_  
  
_Maedhros N.M.F._  
  
(Annotator’s note: several drafts were discarded, in which the closing epithet alone was changed. They are believed to have included the words, “ _I remain ever your faithful son_ ,” “ _devotedly_ ,” and “ _your loving son_.”)

_January 15, 1849_

_Valinor Park_

_Sir—_

_My younger brothers write to tell me that you have had great success with the hot-houses, despite the heavy snows. Mathair’s roses looked remarkably fine & glowing when you showed them to us at Christmas. I expect that you have only continued to improve your craft since then. Should you ever desire additional research, but say the word and I will endeavor to rekindle my interest in gardening, confined by the city or no._

_Maglor plays in concert this Saturday, and I shall send you all a full report on his modest behalf. I do not doubt that you and Mathair overflow with pride for such a tremendous talent as his. I confess it strikes me dumb to hear him sing & fiddle._

_(Jan. 17)_

_Indeed, Maglor’s performance surpassed any I have seen him of him in the past. I shall take this, sir, as a reminder not to be idle & useless—you have my word. _

_Grandfather and I have dined with two lawyer friends of his twice this month. They are learned men, and I recall you expressing a sometime interest in the rudiments of law. What do you recommend, in this regard? I am sure I could prosper in reading it, if only to be more certain of the best ways to secure the family estate. The law of property & estates could be added to our family expertise, should you desire it._

_I beg your pardon if this letter is rather muddled, or if my accounts prove dull reading. In truth, I have kept busy with Grandfather’s calendar and overseeing, as you directed, a small repair of the parlor ceiling. The workmen have been punctual and I expect them to finish next week._

_We are not near so snowed down as Formenos must be. Mathair & Caranthir & the twins have all written to tell of the uses for snow—very different uses, of course. I do not suppose Mathair to have much use for snow-fortresses, yet I daresay even Celegorm enjoys them. _

_Sir, I hope you are well. How tedious the short hours must be for your endeavors, though I doubt not that your forge burns bright still. I think of it fondly, truly I do._

_As ever, I look forward to your occupation of my time with instruction or request. That is, I mean to say, I welcome your guidance, should you choose to give it._

_Gratefully,_

_M.N.M.F._

_February 1, 1849_

_(unsent)_

_Sir—_

_I cannot any longer pretend that the silence between us is one of unintended coolness. Not a day has passed without much reflection on how I left you at Christmas. I know that it is not mine to ask for forgiveness, when I remain unable to offer the apology that you think necessary…_

_No, you see, I cannot say it right. If it helps, let me say it thus: I_ will _not do as you ask. I suppose I could, but it would be against my conscience and—_

(Annotator’s note: The above was scrawled out and a new draft, also unsent, begun.)

_Sir—_

_I am grieved and uneasy. Not a day has passed without much reflection on the silence between us. There is a part of me that dares hope you may see my failure as deficiency rather than defiance._

_Yet I own that that would be dishonest. Is it so hard to believe that father and son may disagree, even bitterly, while still loving and trusting one another?_

_February 19, 1849_

_Valinor Park_

_Sir—_

_Six weeks feels like a century in winter. You were the one who taught me hyperbole and how to contain it. I can readily imagine you telling me that nothing feels like a century to one who hasn’t felt it, while also piling my arms heavy with half-a-dozen volumes, all myths and legends, where centuries past are as colorful as summer blooms. Your stories, your olden-time sagas—I cherish them as favorite memories._

_Maglor is in the full throes of genius lately. Will you come and hear him play? He misses you dreadfully, for the musical society here, though vast, has not your discerning ear! We keep the house prepared for you. It is never a trouble to accommodate you in your own second home._

_The repairmen are gone away and I have made payment from the account you left me management of. I have included the notes & balances for your review. _

_Is Formenos still grey and bleak? My brothers tell me it is, but none describe it as you can._ You _would paint it in wind and frost and make it beautiful, I know you would._

_You can see I have been reading poetry. I promise I have not only been gadding, though; Grandfather will tell you that I (with Maglor, when he is free) am faithful to his table._

_Maglor is leaning over my shoulder and asks to be remembered. But, he says, he will write his own letter soon. I simply could not bear to let another day pass without sending you some report of our doings. Without telling you that I have Formenos with me in mind and heart, even while I am glad & grateful for the blur of city life. Not that the city blurs with indecision, but only with movement and opportunity. Maglor is living proof of that. He makes us all proud; not that a brother’s pride can be equal to a father’s. Not that anything is equal to a father’s love._

_With warmest regard,_

_Maedhros F._

_February 20, 1849_

_(not intended for post; sent accidentally by Maglor, and never opened)_

_Dear Athair,_

_What can I do, now that the worst of our battle is over? The council is new-elected, and I am not on it. Grandfather’s shoes are filled by men who will carry their heads more proudly than I ever could. I know that my refusal betrayed you—grieved you—dishonored you. I know that you did not deserve the epithets I flung at you in the heat of those awful moments._

_Every day since Christmastide I’ve regretted parting from you, leaving you in anger born of my doing._

_I am beset by misery in every quarter;_ _I throw myself on your mercy. Say a word, I beg you, say a word! Write it or send it in one of Mother’s letters, and you shall have a son so happy he shall never thwart you again in life._

 _Believe me that if I ever saw proof of your misgivings here among our family, I should and shall alert you at once. This is my vow. I don't have anything else to live for, but the good of our family. I will bring you reports, as always, when there_ is _anything to report. It is only that I could not misuse the post you chose for me to do so. I know that the word “misuse” will offend & anger you. I bear that anger, and if you command it, will return home and submit myself to the harshest invective you deem just. _

_Only do not leave me in this horrid, cold silence any longer. Do not leave me alone. Maglor cannot understand—no one else can. I miss you dreadfully, I miss your letters dreadfully, I miss the thought of myself in your mind, in your heart._

_I love you; I have failed you. Please, let both be true—for I cannot undo now what grieved you then._

_Your prodigal,_

_Mae—_

(Annotator’s note: this last epistle was stained with dark liquor, and the signature scrawled and unfinished.)

**Author's Note:**

> Nerdanel doesn't want to be called Mathair, though Feanor wishes she would. Mae using it in letters to Feanor is intentional.


End file.
